


I Scratch Your Back, and You Scratch Mine

by Silver_Shortage_in_Markarth



Series: un conte de fée de JeanMarmin [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ...how the hell am I supposed to tag this, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Accidents, Friendship, Gen, In-Laws, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-07-12 17:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Shortage_in_Markarth/pseuds/Silver_Shortage_in_Markarth
Summary: He Isn't her son-in-law anymore.But for now, he can be her son.(takes place before I Hold the Lock, You Hold the Key)





	1. Chapter 1

The last thing Marco recalled before the darkness had overtaken him was pain. Pain and the lifeless stare of one of the other car's passengers. It had been that image he ended up passing out to, once the searing agony had taken enough of a toll on him. 

Actually, he remembered quite a few things about the accident.

There was rain; it was cold and felt like bullets on his back. Marco could also remember the huge chunk of metal that pierced his eyeball. Along with that, he realized that he was unable to stand back up; it were as if some unknown force were pinning him to the ground. 

Marco's concerns, however, were not at all about himself. He was more worried about his ex-husband and best friend Jean. He'd dragged himself over to him and tried to awaken him. 

"Jean," he croaked out, while making a futile effort to shake him back into consciousness. "Jean, wake up. Please, wake up! Please..."

By then, he'd finally passed out.

...

When Marco finally came to, it was to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling and the sharp smell of antiseptic. It only took a few moments to gain complete lucidity, before he was back to his original train of thought. 

"Jean?!" He called out as he quickly sat up, his voice absorbed into the silence of his room. "Jean, where are you?! Jean?!" He was suddenly pushed back down onto the hospital bed he was in, then being held down by a nurse he didn't notice until that very moment. 

"Mister Bodt, calm yourself!" She cried. "You're in no condition to do anything extreme. Please, relax; a doctor will be in shortly to speak with you."

Reluctantly, Marco did so. Still, he glanced about frantically, seeing neither hide nor hair of Jean. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't even realize there was a bandage wrapped over more than half of his face. When he did notice it was there, he reached up to carefully touch it with trembling fingers. 

He was then left alone when the nurse left, waiting for the doctor to arrive. 

**_-a few minutes later-_ **

When Doctor Hanji did finally arrive, she seemed to be much too cheerful considering the circumstances. Even so, she did attempt toning it down for Marco's sake. 

"You're lucky to be alive!" She said to him while filing through some papers on a clipboard. "You've suffered some significant injuries, but I'd say that's better than being dead, correct?" Marco just stared at her blankly before he said anything. 

"Define significant." 

Hanji went on, her grin fading. "Well, as you may have noticed, one of your eyes had to be removed. Piece of metal went right on through." Here, she paused and showed a few pictures of what evidently was supposed to be his face. The sight got Marco to flinch and hold the bandaged portion of his face. 

"...What else?" He rasped out. 

"Well..." Now Hanji tapped at her clipboard, before gesturing to his legs. "Another big chunk ended up getting you through your spinal cord, and severed it clean through. Kind of surprising it didn't go through any major organs. Still..."

No matter how many times Marco ran through his mind, he still couldn't process it. He didn't like how many times Hanji said 'through', either.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting in a wheelchair for the rest of his life wasn't at all on Marco's agenda. And yet, here he was, being pushed in one to where Hanji said that Jean currently ended up being. 

The good news (which admittedly put Marco at ease, if only a little bit) was that Jean survived the crash. The bad news (which removed that ease and replaced it with dread) was that he was in a deep coma. Despite fearing the absolute worst, Marco requested (or rather pleaded) to see him. 

He still wasn't prepared for the sight before him. 

In a bed before him, Jean was hooked up to a variety of machines and contraptions. So many electrodes were holding wires against him, Marco couldn't see all that much skin on him. Were it not for the electrocardiogram and its rhythmic beeping, he'd have assumed Jean was dead. 

"Oh, Jean..." Marco whispered, before putting a hand to his mouth. 

According to Doctor Hanji, both Jean and Marco had been the lucky ones. If this was what had been considered lucky, then he only had the most unimaginable ideas for the other people involved in the accident. 

...

Terror coursed through Miss Kirstein's veins as she approached the morgue to join the other parents in identifying the deceased. Two of them were already there, along with the mortician.

A shrouded body lay in between them, quickly revealed to be a young woman when that sheet on her was removed. Her skin was pale, giving a powerful contrast between that and her golden hair. 

"That's her, all right," the man said gruffly. With that declaration, the mortician left him and directed the woman to another spot. She then pulled out the next body for identification. Miss Kirstein could only watch from the doorway as that body was displayed. 

It only took a second or two before the woman collapsed to the ground; clearly the blond muscular man underneath was her child. After the woman's father helped her back to her feet, the man's mother was weeping profusely. Despite this, she managed to thank the mortician, and left. 

Miss Kirstein stepped back to let the bereaved parents through. When they'd turned the corner of the hallway out of her sight, she made her way in herself. 

"Excuse me," she said to the mortician while she was putting the two corpses back in. "I was told to come in and identify a body?" 

The mortician scoffed, adjusting her glasses as she did so. "Of course you are." She talked while approaching another slot. "No one ever comes down to make small talk with the lady that works with corpses. 'Can the chit-chat, Miss Brzenska, and show me my dead son.'"

With a slight bit of effort, the mortician pulled out another corpse. "Bit of an unfortunate situation here; two stepsiblings and a friend of theirs." 

That right there should've been a red flag, but Miss Kirstein remained silent. She just stood and watched as the other woman uncovered the body, bracing herself. 


	3. Chapter 3

This body was in far worse shape than the other two; this one looked to have been damn near bifurcated. A huge gaping hole was in place of much of his torso, revealing the messy visceral from within (or whatever was left of it anyway). But despite this, Miss Kirstein breathed a sigh of relief. 

"That's not my son," she told Miss Brzenska in a calm voice. "That boy's gotten an unfortunate way to die, but that isn't my Jeanie." Miss Brzenska's eyes widened upon hearing this. 

"Really?!" She then cleared her throat and calmed down, covering the body up once more. "I mean, yes, of course. It's just that no family could be reached, so we thought perhaps it would be you. But in that case..." 

As both women stepped back away from the wall of corpses, a sudden thought came to Miss Kirstein; if Jean wasn't in the morgue, then:

"He's still alive!" 

With that, Miss Kirstein started barreling down the hallway, ignoring Miss Brzenska's demands to slow down. 

...

Marco was seated at Jean's bedside, holding his hand and placing his other hand on his cheek. 

"I wish I knew if you could hear me, Jean," he whispered to his ex-husband over the combination of machine noises. "Doctor Hanji didn't tell me if you could before she ran off to deal with another patient. Somehow a man with three children got the TV remote jammed up his ass.

"Reminds me of one of Larry the Cable Guy's routines. Remember when the honeymoon suite had poor reception on our first night? Our only choices for viewing were one of his routines and the 700 club."

Here, Marco leaned in closer to whisper into Jean's ear. "Personally, I think you made the right choice." 

Marco was then interrupted by a rapid knocking at the door. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, he saw Jean's mother coming in. 

...

The silence between the two now was _very_ uncomfortable. Not even the sound of the machines Jean was hooked up to were really helping.

Nevertheless, Marco pulled away from him and tried to maneuver himself towards Jean's mother. Considering that he had just gotten started with using a wheelchair about less than an hour ago, this was easier said then done; all the things in between him and her didn't help either. 

"I...He...there was...I mean...!" He couldn't find the right words. Or he could, but they were unable to come out in an intelligible manner. When he realized that he couldn't speak properly, Marco just looked away with his cheeks turning a deep red color out of shame. 

It should be him in that bed and not Jean. At least, that's what he figured Jean's mother was thinking right now. 

Marco was then caught by surprise when Miss Kirstein fell to her knees and gave him a big hug. Not really knowing what else he could do, he returned it as best he could manage. 


	4. Chapter 4

The faux-victorian setting of the funeral parlor was putting Marco on edge, for unknown reasons. He was grateful that the place was wheelchair accessible, at least. Otherwise, he felt extremely out of place amongst all the other funeral goers in the room. 

Jean's mother had offered to go with him, but Marco insisted that he had to go alone. It seemed fair enough. 

"It should be me about to become ash in this place," he quietly said to himself.

"'Scuse me," he heard a small voice address him. He looked over to see a young dark-haired girl standing next to him, her hands on her hips. 

"I think you're in the wrong place, Mister. This is for people who knew my cousin and his pals. I never seen you before in my life!" 

Marco just looked away from her, his face pale. "No, I'm in the right place." He paused, before clarifying how exactly he knew the deceased: 

"I was there when the three of them died." 

He didn't say anything else, no matter how much she tried to get him to. Marco breathed an internal sigh of relief when another woman (presumably the girl's mother) came and dragged the girl away. 

...

When it came time for the process of cremation, Marco remained unnaturally still in his place in the crowd. He didn't even so much as flinch when the casket lids were loudly slammed down above the dead bodies. 

Then Marco watched as the first casket was sent in. As the chute leading to the inside of the gigantic furnace opened, he could feel the intense heat on his face. Of course, his mind was elsewhere as they all started burning, deep in his thoughts:

_This should've been **you**._

_It was supposed to happen to **you**._

_Everybody here blames **you**._

_Why did this happen to **them** and not to **you**? _

Nevertheless, Marco kept a straight face as best he could, up until he left (most of the other funeral goers did; it would take at least several hours for the bodies to be completely incinerated anyway). Only when Jean's mother came to pick him up did he finally break down into a sobbing mess in the car. 

...

Marco was still emotional that night, as he ate dinner with Jean's mother. It wasn't only from what happened at the funeral home, though. There were a whole lot of other reasons. 

"Thank you for this, Louise." It wasn't often he'd referred to her by her name; he didn't do it a whole lot even when he'd been married to Jean. 

"Oh, it's nothing special, all it is is plain ramen with more sensible flavoring-"

Marco kept her from going further. "It's not just that; it's everything about what happened." He wiped his face with one of his sleeves. "I'm just so glad that you don't blame me for any of this. I mean, your son's in a coma, and here I am perfectly lucid. It isn't fair..."

He felt her place her hands onto his shoulders, causing him to look up at her. Miss Kirstein had a sad smile on her face. 

"I'm just happy both of you are still here," she now said to him. "Yes, Jean's in a coma, but there's always a chance he can wake up. And knowing you're here means I don't have to wait for him all alone." Now she was the one shedding a few tears. 

It was good to know that the two could rely on each other for support, at a time when both of them needed it the most. 


	5. Chapter 5

Holding a pile of various small items in his lap, Marco sat and watched as the people Jean's mother hired put the finishing touches on a suitable wheelchair ramp and railing. Behind him, she had a decent grip on the handles of his wheelchair, like she were afraid that he'd wander off somehow. 

"I assumed that if you were going to move in with me," she said to him, "you wouldn't want to try and go up the stairs in your wheelchair. That'd be embarrassing for both of us." Marco just grinned and nodded. He then waited for the men to complete everything. 

When they did complete it, he couldn't stop himself from grinning widely as he and Miss Kirstein made good use of it. 

...

For the first time in a long while, Marco found himself in what used to be his and Jean's room. Then it was just Jean's room. And for now, it was his room. An air of melancholy hung about him, as if he didn't actually belong in this room. 

Still, he tried to shake it off as he put what little he brought with him out in places he deemed appropriate. Mostly it was just his prescribed painkillers and a few shirts (he didn't think it'd be relevant to wear pants anymore; he could just cover his lower half up with a blanket or something else). 

Then Marco picked up the last thing he'd brought with him, and hesitated. 

"Almost done?" Jean's mother asked when she peeked in to check on him. A glance at what he was holding made her grin fade. Then she slowly made her way over to him, kneeling down at his side and taking hold of it. "Oh yes... I remember taking this picture of you two..."

Looking at just how happy Marco and Jean were in their wedding photo, it was enough to make both their hearts hurt. To try and control his imminent tears, Marco then held the picture frame against his chest. In turn, Miss Kirstein held him in yet another of her many hugs. 

"If I hadn't asked for a divorce," he said shakily after a few moments of silence, "maybe neither of us would have been distracted that day. Then maybe we could've stopped at the right time, and not get in that crash." He hiccuped, feeling his voice then break completely. "Then none of this would've happened."

Jean's mother said nothing; she just held him closer and tighter. 

...

For the next year after that, Marco and Miss Kirstein were nearly inseparable. The two of them did everything together, from grocery shopping to participating in various town events. Before too long, the both of them had amassed quite a photo album of their numerous activities. 

It was nice to flip through whenever either of them needed some reminding that neither of them were going through this alone. Some nights it got rough, like when Marco's painkillers wore off at the worst times. It was a good distraction as well, at the very least.

And of course, both of them made certain to visit Jean in the hospital for at least a half hour a day. Thanks to their aforementioned activities, they certainly had a lot to talk about with him. 

For the entirety of that year, they managed to get through quite a lot. 

It made them all the more thankful when they'd met Armin, and he could also be a part of their lives as well. 


End file.
